


Desk Job

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Pre-War, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This could go one of two ways. Either he was going to be kicked out of the unit, or he was going to be placed higher in rank. Arsenical had prayed and hoped for the latter--now, and since the moment he stepped onto the training field and first laid eyes on Sentinel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Job

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this for a while now. Just something with a chatty, excited bottom involving slight cum inflation and ahegao.
> 
> Dedicated to my friend, A. They know who they are. I'm glad you enjoy my filth, friend.
> 
> PROMOTIONS! /spreads arms/
> 
> [Tumblr link](http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/128313312373/desk-job-baneberry-the-transformers-idw): because a reblog is always appreciated! （●>ω・）ﾉ

Arsenical was new to General Sentinel's cavalry, as well as the youngest. He'd only been online less than a year, but the glimmer of the magic of this beautiful world was still ever present in his bright blue optics. The moment he'd been accepted into Sentinel's special military unit, Arsenical ran out and immediately got the uniform paintjob, wearing it with pride.

Training had been hard and rigorous, and often times many mechs who seemed to be the elite of the elite simply didn't cut it. Sentinel was a strict leader, and he expected only the best of his men--no, more than their best. He wanted more than they could offer; he wanted them to push past their limits and thensome. And for many, it was impossible. But those who stayed--those who sacrificed and suffered--were honored and respected by their stoic commander and the general public.

Arsenical never would have imagined he'd come this far. While he certainly had no intentions of failing, and was willing to do whatever it took to stay, he still never thought he'd rise to the top of the ranks. Even most of his teammates doubted him. He was too young, too undisciplined and naive still, but Arsenical proved them all wrong five months into training when Sentinel ordered him for a private meeting in his office.

This could go one of two ways. Either he was going to be kicked out of the unit, or he was going to be placed higher in rank. Arsenical had prayed and hoped for the latter--now, and since the moment he stepped onto the training field and first laid eyes on Sentinel.

"Starting tomorrow, you'll no longer be a cadet, but an official squad member with accompanying full access. Your new work schedule will be given to you once you report to me in the morning."

Arsenical's blue optics brightened, nearly bursting from their sockets, and he beamed so wide his faceplates hurt. He quickly realized how embarrassing he must have looked and went back to stony and standing ramrod straight. He curtly saluted Sentinel and tapped his heels together. "Thank you, sir! It is a real honor, sir!"

Arsenical didn't know if that was pushing it. His entire chassis was vibrating from excitement. He wanted to be excused, run out and tell the others. Rub it in the naysayers' faces. But he had to be patient, and respectful. Sentinel wouldn't approve of such juvenile behavior.

Arsenical blinked, surprised, as Sentinel gathered to his feet. "There is one more thing that comes with this promotion," he stated firmly. He moved around his desk, so graceful for someone so broad and large. It was amazing, and Arsenical's spark skipped. He'd grown to admire his leader more and more with each passing day.

Sentinel walked up behind Arsenical. The former cadet wanted to turn around, but remained facing forward, trying to control his shaking.

"Tell me how you feel about this honor," Sentinel ordered, "you may speak candidly."

Arsenical swallowed loudly, and his smile returned. "It's... There are no words, sir, to convey what I am feeling. It's indescribable. Wonderful. Incredible. It's... it's more than--" He hiccuped when Sentinel's large hands suddenly took his smaller hips, and then the mech was pressing his massive frame flush against his back, and Arsenical tried not to stumble. "S-Sir, I..."

"I'm sure we can find the words." Sentinel's fingers moved down a thigh, between Arsenical's legs, and he shivered. "Open your panel."

Arsenical's spark was racing. But there was no hesitation. It'd been drilled into him that he must follow Sentinel's every command since day one, no matter how insane or... strange. And it wasn't, to his surprise, necessarily by force. There was no personal reluctance. 

If anything, Arsenical was all too happy to comply on his own terms.

Arsenical's panel opened, and one of Sentinel's large fingers brushed the outer folds. Arsenical staggered this time.

"S-Sir--"

"You may ask me to stop. It will not affect your position."

Arsenical bit down on his bottom lip. He lightly shook his head. The finger pushed up inside his channel, not too deep. Exploring, caressing fine and sensitive mesh and barely brushing over nodes. Arsenical invented heavily, trying not to clamp his thighs down on Sentinel's hand.

"Does it hurt?"

Arsenical swallowed again. "N-No, sir, not at all," he tittered, his optics opening a crack. "I-Infact, if you--you don't mind me saying, you--ah!" His optics squeezed shut again as the finger probed deeper, and lubricant began to well. "--H-Hhhave a very g-gentle t-touch..." Which, now, was kind of not as true, but he wasn't going to complain.

He didn't want to.

"Tell me how it feels then."

The finger started working in and out of Arsenical's panel in slow, heavy strokes, from tip to knuckle. Never going in too deep, or too shallow. Arsenical whimpered. "I-It feels wonderful. My b-backstrut is tingling. I... It almost k-kind of tickles..." Was that too awkward? "I... I wouldn't mind, s-sir, if you went... went deep... deeper..."

"All in good time, cadet," Sentinel grumbled from behind his audiol. Right; he was still just a cadet. Tomorrow he'd be a full squad member. Arsenical didn't mind, however. The finger continued its sluggish pace, drawing out more and more lubricant. Occasionally it would stop to pry and push, and Arsenical gasped.

"T-That feels g-good, sir," he groaned.

Sentinel made a noncommittal noise, and Arsenical choked down a whimper as a second finger pushed inside him. His backstrut tensed up, the rest of him shaking. He adjusted quickly, however, limping back down into the fingers. They started scissoring; open and closed in infrequent patterns. Arsenical's fingers curled into tight fists, the edges biting into his palms. He suddenly found it very hard to stand, resting back against his leader's chest.

"Nn, sir," Arsenical croaked, "f-feels..."

"Do you want more, cadet?"

Arsenical's spark leaped in his chest, optics shimmering. "Y-Yes, sir," he moaned, "p-please."

Suddenly, without warning, Sentinel slammed Arsenical against the edge of the desk with a hand to his back. He held him in place, his fingers inside the cadet's channels hooking and tugging at the edge, pushing into his ceiling node.

Arsenical keened, grabbing onto the desk and squeezing. His fingers rattled. Sentinel pushed Arsenical's leg aside, the cadet obediently spreading himself wider. Sentinel removed his fingers, and Arsenical exvented harshly, lubricant dripping down his once pristine white thighs.

"Raise your hips, cadet," Sentinel growled.

Arsenical moaned, obediently leaning forward, raising to present himself. He glanced meekly over his shoulder at his leader, optics dimmed with slight embarrassed but undeniable lust. He nearly gasped when he saw Sentinel's unit pressurize. It was as big and thick as his deepest, darkest fantasies, and Arsenical shuddered.

Sentinel roughly took Arsenical's hips again, damn near close to practically slamming himself inside the cadet's channel in its entirety. Arsenical squealed, falling across the desk; he raised a weak hand--

"Keep your hands on the desk, cadet."

Arsenical immediately grabbed the desk again. He groaned, adjusting to the first few thrusts. Sentinel's speed was fair, but the intensity was overwhelming. Arsenical was suddenly dizzy, a huge smile crossing his face.

"Y-Yes, yes," Arsenical whimpered, swaying, knees buckled, "i-it's so g-good it's so g-good m-more p-please sir."

Sentinel sheathed his entire unit, and Arsenical's howl burst into sharp, giddy laughter. "Yes! _Yes_!" he cried, rutting against the desk. "S-So _w-wonderful_ , s-sir!"

Sentinel pulled out slowly. Arsenical wiggled. He pushed himself back in, halfway, before finishing with a swift thrust. Arsenical keened happily again. He flopped back down on the desk, panting and heaving. Dents from Sentinel's grip were forming on his hips, and he could feel liquid puddle at his feet.

"M-More, sir! P-Please!" Arsenical whined. He got a rough thrust in return. His smile widened, a droopy, clumsy thing. Coolant spilled from one corner of his lips. "Mmmnn, y-yes, _yes_." His tongue lolled in his mouth, catching gasps of humid air. "Y-You're so g-good, it feels s-so-- _nnn_!"

Arsenical hit hard enough against the desk to push it back, knocking a lamp and photograph over. He chanced a look over; the holographic photo was of the senate, Sentinel standing beside Senator Proteus. Though his head was full of fog, he noted Proteus and him looked similar in many ways. Sure, he was slimmer, and his chevron style was different, but--

Arsenical whimpered, a hand closing around his neck, jerking him upright and forcing his head back until cables strained. The hand remained clasped around his throat, tight, the second holding him around a thigh, raising his leg. From this position, he was spread wider, allowing Sentinel more room. Sentinel pumped faster, now, even more vicious than before.

"P-Primus, nn!" Arsenical sobbed. His half-lidded optics rolled up to the ceiling, vision blurry. Pleasure had made every single one of his circuits sensitive and alert. His chassis was still quivering. "Yes! Yes! M-More harder _more_ sir p-please!" Tears prickled at the corners of his optics, tongue loose against his gaping, panting mouth. His body moved in great jolts with each pump, punctuated with obscene noises. Drool continued spilling freely, but he honestly didn't care--and didn't really notice.

But Sentinel remained quiet, only occasionally releasing a grunt or growl.

Arsenical could feel overload ebb down his backstrut, pooling like a swell of energy in his groin. "Mm, s-sir," he whimpered, teeth grit. "I-I'm I'm gonna--" The closer he came to overloading, the more the pleasure heightened, and he nearly started crying, overwhelmed by the wonderful sensations. He finally climaxed with a small cry, the walls of his channel clenching down on Sentinel's unit. Only a little transfluid managed to leak free.

Arsenical's body almost went limp, but then Sentinel yanked himself free, whipped the cadet around, and pinned him on his back on the desk. Arsenical gasped, digging into the steel surface. Sentinel raised his legs, thrusting back inside. 

Arsenical gave a tiny whine, but immediately hooked his legs tightly around his leader's hips. His feet couldn't even touch, Sentinel was too big and wide.

"O-Overload inside m-me," Arsenical pleaded, reaching up to grab Sentinel's shoulders, "p-please, sir, p-please."

Sentinel snorted in response. He continued pumping, faster and faster, in only what Arsenical believed was his own overload catching up to him. He clung as closely to his leader as possible, panting. "It's perfect s-so perfect t-thank you, sir, t-thank y-you," he choked, helping Sentinel along by bucking his hips, riding into the unit. "F-Fill me, sir, please."

Sentinel might have been a bit cruel, even sadistic at times, but Arsenical knew now he was prone to being nice every so often. Sentinel suddenly froze, deep inside Arsenical; his fingers clenched the desk, and he overloaded.

Arsenical cried out. Transfluid poured inside him, collecting in his tanks, and he could feel his abdominal armor bulge a little, making room. He hadn't expected this much, but he wasn't complaining. "S-Sir, thank you, thank you," he squealed, clinging to Sentinel. He squeezed around his unit, milking it of every last drop.

When Sentinel finally settled, he calmly pulled himself free, unit depressurizing completely. He let Arsenical go, and too weak to hold himself up, Arsenical slid off the desk, hitting the ground with a grunt. He whimpered as transfluid gushed out between his legs, his thighs twitching. He watched his body release the pent-up transfluid, smiling crookedly and proudly.

"On your feet, cadet."

Arsenical, as before, did not hesitate. It took him a minute to get to his feet, using the desk for support. He stood as straight as possible, but his knees felt like mush, and transfluid continued trickling down his thighs and onto the floor.

Sentinel had cleaned himself off, and was sitting at his desk, looking once more prim and proper. "I can tell by the mess you've made, you are very grateful about the promotion," he said; in all seriousness, too.

Arsenical gulped. "Y-Yes." He saluted tiredly. "T-Thank you, sir. I am e-eternally in y-your service."

Sentinel tossed him a couple rags. "Clean yourself up," he ordered coldly.

But Arsenical didn't mind. He did as he was told, wiping his legs, thighs, and panel as clean as possible. He used another rag to wipe the puddle off the floor. Not as good, but fair enough. When he stood again, Sentinel was turned in his seat, reading a datapad.

"Sir, I did m-my best, but I--"

"That'll be all," Sentinel grunted, "dismissed."

Arsenical nodded slowly. He looked around the room, unsure as what to do with the rags. He carefully placed them in a nearby trash bin. With no reprimanding from his commander, he turned for the door, leaving with a smile on his face.

His teammates, however, were less interested in what Sentinel wanted him for, but rather why he was walking so weirdly.


End file.
